Plunge
by She's So High
Summary: You never concerned yourself with relationships or love until the day Sirius kissed you and you realized that, no matter how many times he hurt you, it would be worth taking the chance.


Plunge  
By: Lady DeathAngel  
Disclaimer: Not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.  
Warnings: slash (that means boy-on-boy stuffs, for you who don't know), strong language, and some sexual content  
A/N: So, this is my first trip down the lane of second person. It's actually quite fun, but a pain in the arse as far as tenses go. Anyway, Sirius and Remus have been far too neglected in my neck of the fanfiction woods and I needed to write another one that wasn't soppy and fluffy. This was really a very random story, but I love it none-the-less. Anyway, it's self-edited, so please keep that in mind. And as always, please read, enjoy, and review.

You'd never concerned yourself with girls and relationships. Even if you were attracted to them in the slightest, being what you were, you didn't harbor any illusions that a witch in the world would overlook your lycanthropy and get married to you knowing full well that they could never have children and that the Ministry would have you both under constant surveillance. It was really quite lucky, you thought, that you didn't want all the things a normal young man wanted; you didn't want the wife and the house with the picket fence and the litter of children underfoot. If you did, you'd probably have been quite distraught knowing it wasn't a possibility for a werewolf.

And as for relationships with other boys . . . you'd never really bothered thinking about that either. After all, you'd been so conditioned to think of that as another abnormality, the kind Muggle's kill and condemn for, you were even less comfortable with that than you were with the fact that you turned into a monster every month. You finally caved in, after several years spent in constant angst over it all, and told James and Sirius and Peter that you weren't_ just_ a werewolf, but a homosexual as well. You could still remember their reactions. They all just laughed.

Peter assured you it wasn't so bad. He said his cousin was a lesbian and had a wonderful girlfriend named Sarah that she toted around at family parties. James told you that it didn't matter to him. You were still you and nothing could ever change that. Sirius was the one who couldn't stop laughing.

"I don't see why you were so _worried_," he said when you smacked him and demanded that he shut the bloody hell up. "That's pretty common among Wizards," he explained. "Especially purebloods. So many of us are such flaming poofs it isn't even funny." He shrugged. "But so long as the bloodlines are extended and proper matrimonial matches are made, no one cares who you shag on your own time."

You raised an eyebrow and he laughed again.

"I'm not one of them though," he said, shaking his head. "Leastways, no more than half a poof. I still like girls."

It was a relief to hear that they accepted you for who you were, and it was even nice to know that it might not be such a hard thing to find a like-minded lover somewhere close-by. Still, you didn't plan on ever actively pursuing someone. If a bloke came along that showed an interest you told yourself you'd see where that led, but honestly, what was the point of going out of your way? Eventually you'd run into the same problem you'd find with a girl. Things would get hairy and they were bound to ask after your whereabouts once a month. It all seemed like such a hassle.

But after a while you decided why not? You were tired of James pining after Lily and chasing after everything else in a skirt to make the red-head jealous. Peter seemed to be forging a lasting bond with some Hufflepuff girl and the rumors flying around about those two were nauseating. And then there was Sirius who flew through girls as fast as James until Meredith the seventh year, who was a brilliant shag by all accounts and finally enough to satisfy Sirius' baser needs.

The Marauders were still around, still wreaking havoc, still terrorizing the school when they could, but now three of your number had _girlfriends_, the sort of things that hung about and demanded more and more _time_ and obviously offered more of an incentive than you since, according to all you heard, they were keeping your friends' sex lives quite lucrative. And you, the lone wolf, the quiet, studious, Prefect, were bloody well tired of being left behind for Hogsmeade dates and liaisons in the Astronomy tower and empty classrooms and the library (was nowhere _sacred_ to these sex-crazed bints?).

So, when Matt, a seventh year Ravenclaw, captain of the Quidditch team and very smart, caught you by surprise in the dungeons after a particularly embarrassing Potions class, you didn't think much beyond 'He's a shoddy kisser, but he'll do'. And it was very nice to have a boyfriend, to stay out late at night and return to the dorm with dark bruises on your neck from where he'd kissed you, to be able to turn down Sirius, James, and Peter when they felt like doing something and _you_ had other plans.

And then _it_ happened. Your tenuous relationship with your friends was completely torn apart by the fact that Sirius, stupid, _fucking_, Sirius, decided it'd be funny to send Snivellus down your way and have you tear him apart. You knew, on some level, that Peter and James had nothing to do with it. You didn't even hate them, not really, but you were so tired of everything . . . of not being good enough for them, of your fake relationship with Matt . . . you slipped into yourself. You didn't talk much to anyone, least of all Matt who didn't know the truth. The prat thought, like everyone else, that you were pissed off because Sirius had said something inappropriate about your mother and suggested that you just get over it.

That, of course, only served to make you even more angry and even more introverted because there was no way in hell you would 'just get over' this. This was too much, the last straw; this had left you aching and empty and trying desperately not to think about how much Sirius had hurt you, but you couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day it seemed it was all you could do to put your mind on anything other than what had happened.

Matt got tired of you, decided you were a cheating bastard and told you to be happy with whatever bloke had caught your attention for the moment. You would have laughed if it had been the least bit funny, but it wasn't. You almost told him, then, that it was _Sirius_ who was always on your mind. Stupid, _fucking_, Sirius who had taken your trust and pissed on it, who hadn't stopped apologizing since, who you couldn't bear to look at because you were convinced that you would kill him if he so much as uttered your name in that pitiful tone of his. But you said nothing because Matt had been shit at kissing anyway, and you'd never really liked him.

Months passed, months in which you barely spoke to James and Peter who, in turn, barely spoke to Sirius. You were all miserable, but you most of all. Full moons loomed in your future, big and bright and lonely. You weren't about to admit you _needed_ your friends and their transformations. Bloody Gryffindor pride wouldn't allow it. And anyway, you were scared. Afraid to be betrayed again. So you suffered alone and tore yourself apart in ways you hadn't done for years. Madame Pomfrey was beside herself at the amount of damage and you were in a hospital bed for nearly two days.

Lily Evans was nice enough to lend you her notes when you got back to class, and she smiled kindly at you and said that if you didn't want to pair with James, Sirius, or Peter she wouldn't mind being your partner in classes.

"I know you're fighting," she said. "So it's okay with me if you want to work together. You're probably a right sight better at all this stuff than Diana, anyway," she added with a slight flush to her cheeks.

You noticed, as the weeks progressed, that James was getting increasingly annoyed by the fact that Lily quite obviously fancied you. You tried your best to make sure she understood that you weren't interested, but that didn't stop her from kissing you after class on a cold December morning. Afterward, after an awkward moment of lips pressed against unresponsive lips, she asked if there was someone else.

You insisted there wasn't, but she didn't believe you.

Things only got worse from there in the way things always seemed to go for you. Sirius had apparently witnessed the whole thing and confronted you about it. A huge, screaming fight ensued in which you fought about absolutely nothing for several minutes before Sirius called you a fucking traitor and crossed the fine line that not one of you had crossed since the entire incident.

"Oh, that's fucking hilarious coming from _you_, Black," you shot back. "How the bloody hell did you manage to call _me_ a traitor with a straight face?"

Sirius scowled at you.

"I've already _said_ I'm sorry," he said. "What more do you want?"

You wondered what it was you wanted. You wanted for things to go back to the way they were before, you knew that. You wanted your best friends back and you wanted for there to be no girlfriends, no sex lives, just the Marauders. But that was what you'd wanted long before this thing with Sirius and it had nothing to do with him directly. He wanted to know what you wanted from _him_. And not even you knew that. So you came up with something that sounded very deep, but was pure bullshit.

"I want to be able to believe you're sorry. Prove it."

You were good at coming up with those kinds of things off the top of your head. You were almost positive, after Sirius went away with a harsh set to his mouth, that he wouldn't be bothering you again. Oh how wrong you were.

Suddenly he was everywhere. It started the day that Snape decided it would be funny to push you down a flight of stairs. You twisted your ankle pretty badly and it hurt too much to walk on. There were no Gryffindors around to call for help, just a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws who couldn't care less that you could have broken your neck. You were debating with yourself the benefits of getting up versus just sitting there until someone came along when Sirius came out of a nearby classroom with Meredith and a few of her friends following close behind.

"What happened to you?" he asked in typical Sirius fashion.

You looked up at him with a sunny smile.

"Felt like a bit of a sit-down," you said. "It's really quite nice down here. Care to join me?"

But Sirius knew you too well to not see through it. He told Meredith and company that he'd see them around and then knelt down.

"What really happened?"

You decided that your ankle throbbed too much for you to be up to lying and sighed.

"I fell. Twisted my ankle. Can't get up. Happy?"

He smirked and before you knew it he'd picked you up as easily as if you weighed nothing.

"Got your bag?" he asked.

You nodded and let him carry you to the infirmary where Madame Pomfrey healed you in minutes. You expected for Sirius to be waiting for you when it was all said and done, but he wasn't. You weren't sure if you were shocked or pleased, but later that night in the common room, you didn't feel quite so homicidal when you saw him from across the room, alone save his girlfriend, draped over his lap and nibbling on his neck like they were in a hotel room and not in front of a fairly captive audience.

Things like that continued to happen right up until it was time for most of the students to leave for Christmas holidays. Sirius didn't go out of his way to help you when you didn't need it, but whenever you did he was around, offering a hand. But, in a manner completely out of character, he didn't gloat about it or smirk or anything like that. He was quiet and gave his assistance with a smile and you realized that the bloody prat really was trying to prove he was sorry.

It was odd and made you feel kind of warm and fuzzy and not quite so bitter as you'd been for most of the year. James and Peter noticed the change and you started sitting with them again. In fact, with the three of you staying behind for the holidays, it was almost like old times again. Sirius had stayed behind as well, and you weren't cold to him, but you were confused. One minute you were ready to forgive him, the next you were wondering how you possibly could. And finally, on Christmas Eve, he confronted you.

"I've tried, Moony," he said plaintively.

James and Peter had gone off to get snacks from the House Elves, leaving you alone with Sirius for the first time since the holidays started.

"I've tried so bloody hard to prove it and I'm not good at this sort of thing, you _know_ I'm not."

You bit your lip and looked away from his grey eyes, pleading with you, begging to be forgiven, to be loved again, to be your brother again, to be your best friend again.

"Look, just tell me now, okay, if this isn't ever going to happen. If you can never forgive me and if I'm just wasting my time now I'll quit while I'm ahead."

"I . . . I don't want to forgive you," you said softly. "I'm scared. Once bitten, twice shy, you know?"

"Okay," he answered, voice as soft as yours. "Okay then. I'll just . . ."

"But," you continued, forcefully. "I'll try. I'll try to forgive you."

And the truth was that you already had. For weeks you'd been clinging to this illusion that you were still angry because anger was safe, but you were done doing that, now.

The year went smoother after that. Your bond with Sirius strengthened after that. He seemed convinced that you would disappear at any moment and clung to your side, and that made you feel nice. You didn't like the idea of being left behind and Sirius didn't want to leave you. But it was beginning to create problems.

Sirius was suddenly very touchy. He'd always been fairly tactile, but this was different. He was always draping his arm across your shoulders when the four of you walked about, always giving you massages when you were sore, always catching eyelashes that lingered on your cheekbones with calloused fingertips. He didn't stop touching you unless he was with Meredith, and he was with her less and less often. He wasn't the only one. James seemed less obsessed with making Lily jealous and Peter, while he was still with the Hufflepuff, seemed much happier plotting pranks with the group.

Still, James didn't sit himself on your lap and play with your hair when engaged in a chess match with Peter, and Peter didn't snuggle against you in the middle of deciding the best way to charm certain parts of your nearly-finished map. And you weren't in danger of falling in love with either of them. You were fast beginning to realize that you'd already fallen in love with Sirius and he was making it worse every day with his touches.

And you honestly should have known that the prat knew how you felt. He was always saying that you looked like you were in love and asking the name of the boy. You never said anything besides a curt 'fuck off' and that only served to put him in an even better mood than he was before. You thought he was just being obnoxious, like usual. Until the day he kissed you.

You'd been reading a new book that Lily, who'd gotten over her crush, had leant you the week before. It was a Muggle novel that she thought you might enjoy, but it was kind of boring and girly and you wondered, as you scowled down at the flowery prose, just what that girl was trying to hint at. When someone walked into the common room you didn't look up. You didn't think that it was likely to be anyone you cared to talk to. James and Peter were off on a tutoring session and Sirius was with Meredith. You didn't even blink until you felt a head on your knee.

"She dumped me," Sirius said softly, not sounding very upset about it at all.

"Meredith dumped you?" you repeated.

"Yep." He turned so that he could look up at you with sparkling grey eyes. "She said I was spending too much time with you lot and not enough with her. Anyway, what comforts do you have to give a heartbroken friend?"

You snorted and closed your book, unable to resist the urge to pet Sirius like you often did whether he was in his animagus form or not.

"None, actually. Besides, a little heartbreak never killed anyone."

"Well, I'm not that upset anyway," the dark-haired boy said, turning his head in your lap to give you proper access to his hair and scalp. "She was getting boring and predictable." He changed his tone to one with a higher pitch. "'Sirius, love, want me to suck you off? Sirius, love, would you be a dear and finger me the way you know I like? Sirius, love, don't you have any concept of foreplay at _all_?"

"Sounds so tedious," you muttered drily.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "Dreadfully so. Bet Matt wasn't nearly so annoying."

"He was a shitty kisser," you told him, grimacing as you remembered how bad he'd been when he was tentative, getting gradually worse the more comfortable with you he got. "I never let him go any further than that."

Which was a lie. There'd been that questionable hand-job and a blow-job he'd given you when you were drunk and upset and would have let him do anything he wanted.

"Too bad. Though, he isn't that good looking anyway, Matt."

There was a beat of silence and you wondered what he was going to ask next. Sirius had this annoying habit of getting really quiet before asking an important question. When he opened his mouth after a few minutes and finally spoke, you weren't terribly surprised.

"Have you ever been in love, Moony?" he asked.

You weren't in the mood to lie again. You never were when Sirius was in your lap and you were running your fingers through his soft, silky hair.

"Yeah," you answered. "I have."

"With Matt?"

You snickered.

"God, no. He just kind of was."

"Hmmm . . . with who then?"

You kept your tone carefully neutral.

"Just someone."

"Does he know?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I'm still in love?"

Sirius chuckled softly.

"Dunno. So, does he?"

You sighed.

"No, I don't think so. It's not like I'll ever tell him."

"Why not?"

You didn't know where it came from, but all of a sudden you were annoyed because you were petting the head of the boy you'd come to love and he was talking about himself, albeit unknowingly, and asking you all these fucking questions that you didn't want to answer for his benefit or yours or anyone else's. So you stood abruptly, dislodging him, and made your way to the dorm with a casual, "Sirius, just drop it." thrown over your shoulder.

But he didn't drop it. Sirius was like Padfoot with a bone (and it was really no surprise at that moment or at the moment he'd first managed the transformation, that his animagus was a dog). He followed you and you could practically feel him moving behind you, even from feet away.

"Maybe you should just tell him," he said. "I mean, what could it hurt?"

You whirled around with a frown.

"What could it hurt? What could it _hurt_? He's not going to want me anyway, so there's no bloody point in taking the chance. And why do you suddenly care anyway? Is it because Meredith dumped you? Honestly, you probably had it coming. You're absolute shit at relationships, you know."

He glared at you and you felt a little bad, but not overly.

"Yeah, I think that point's been firmly established several times. I fucked up with her, I fucked up with you, I fucked up with my parents and with Regulus and when I try to make amends or to sever bonds I fuck that up too."

You opened your mouth to reply but he was not stopping, apparently.

"So I guess there's no point in saying this because I'll end up fucking up and hurting you in the long run, but I care because I think you're in love with me and I love you too."

Your heart rate picked up speed and a heady sense of 'he loves me too' filled your body. But it was quickly overpowered by a misplaced sense of indignation and you took a step forward. Sirius didn't move back and you wished that he wasn't taller, that you were a bit fiercer, that you could have intimidated him just a little bit.

"How dare you? Who the fuck do you think you are? 'I think you're in love with me' . . . what's that supposed to mean? Why would you even _say_ something like that?"

He looked at you for a long moment before taking a step forward and you, to your embarrassment, took one backward.

"Because it's true, isn't it? You're obvious, at least to me. I've known you too long, Moony. And maybe I was a bit hopeful that you were in love with me. I mean, I've wanted you for ages and then I went and fucked up with that bit involving Snape and I realized when you weren't talking to me, when you weren't even _looking_ at me, that I'm in love with you. I need you."

You scoffed.

"You don't need me," you said softly. "Not like I need you." And you definitely hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud. But you did and he was taking another step forward, and you another backward. You found yourself pressed against the door to the dorm and he was just a few inches away and leaning forward.

"So you admit you need me, then." It wasn't a question. "Do you love me, Moony? Are you in love with me?"

You turned your head to the side, conflicted and angry for no reason and scared for too many to name.

"Don't," you ordered. "Just stop because I don't . . ."

He cut you off, turning your face toward his with calloused fingertips, and finding your lips with his. You thought vaguely, as he gave you the most violent, possessive, arousing kiss of your short life, that he was definitely _not_ shoddy kisser. This was nothing like it had been with Matt. This was passion, the kind that could never be ignored now. He was nipping at your lips with his teeth and you were moaning at the pleasure-pain that spiked through your body. He filled your mouth with his tongue which was invasive and slid over your own, tickled the roof of your mouth, demanded more and more from you: more moans, more whimpers, more of a reaction. And you gave it. You wound your arms around his slim waist, pulling him closer and groaning when he ground his hips into yours.

He seemed to like the way that felt too, and he did it again, rubbing his erection against yours, still kissing you as if he was laying a claim to you. And you wanted it. You, in all of your denial and fear, wanted this. You wanted to be claimed and you wanted to be claimed by Sirius Black. You wanted this dark-haired boy who'd ripped you apart once to do it again, if it meant a chance at exploring this passion and this love. You didn't care; that kiss tore your resolve to shreds and you admitted as you clasped his hips in greedy hands and ground his hips harder into yours, that you loved him and wanted him and needed him more than anything.

He pulled away after a moment and neither of you were breathing properly and you were both, apparently, very reluctant to stop your hips from pressing into each other's.

"Are you in love with me, Remus?" he asked, his lips pressed against your ear, his breath hot and moist and sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes," you said softly, and that was it. That was all you had to say.

That simple yes put a grin on his face that you answered and he kissed you again, gently this time.

"Gods, I love you so much, I want you so bad."

The words made you groan and you were still painfully hard and so was he but you had to say it, you had to give voice to the only thing that didn't have you on your knees with his cock in your mouth at that moment.

"Don't hurt me," you whispered. "Please don't hurt me again."

He buried his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, shaking.

"I'm so bad at this, Remus," he said softly. "I am, but I'll try. I'll try so fucking hard not to hurt you again."

And that was enough. It was as good for you as your 'yes' had been for him. You pulled him up for another kiss, your bodies pressed tightly together against the door of the boys' dorm. It was madness, and you were scared and weary but it didn't matter anymore. Maybe he would hurt you again, break you so that you couldn't be fixed, but it was okay. Because it was Sirius, stupid, _fucking_, Sirius and you loved him and he loved you. That was all that really mattered.

Well, that and the way he whimpered your name when you both came in your trousers. That was definitely something you could get addicted to.


End file.
